Chapter 944: Chapter 3: Unchanging Course Chapter 944: Chapter 3: Unchanging Course Rainwater mixed with mud poured into the trenches, carrying leaves into the river, emitting the unique earthy scent of rainy days.

Ge’er Siding looked down at the indecipherable substance under her feet that seemed like feces, maybe mud, with a profoundly complicated expression on her face.

But clearly, there was something even more shocking waiting for her.

Looking at the Bloody Mary on the riverbank, Ge’er suddenly felt the urge to turn around and leave, “It’s even worse than a rag-picker’s tin shack!”

Captain Johnson walked toward his beloved ship, glanced at Ge’er, and said with a smile, “It may not look pretty, but she’s got guts.”

Bi Fang followed behind Johnson and took a glance.

It was truly shabby, like an iron shack hastily erected in a refugee area, its side patched up with collected, rusty iron sheets, forming a larger metal wall to shield from wind and rain.

However, Bi Fang didn’t mind these things–he had survived in far worse conditions than a small boat with a somewhat shabby exterior.

Picking up his backpack, Bi Fang followed Johnson onto the boat and, without being told, started tidying up, making preparations for departure.

Johnson spent some time in the captain’s cabin, then left to do his own work.

As long as you could work once on board, it didn’t matter the reason–whether freeloader or not was irrelevant.

An off-road pickup splashed through mud puddles as it drove up the narrow path, coming to a stop in front of Ge’er and the others.

Two men, one black and one white, descended from the vehicle.

All personnel were now gathered.

Bi Fang rested his arms on the window of the second floor of the cabin, watching as people argued before boarding the boat one by one.

Jack Byron, a relatively young white scientist, the key figure of the entire event, was also an ambitious man. He had discovered the Blood Orchid and, at the company’s behest, embarked on a quest for the flower.

Sam Rogers, Jack’s enthusiastic assistant, a blonde bombshell.

Ge’er Siding, the representative of Weihe Venture Capital, a sexy mixed-race beauty with deep skin color.

Gordon Mitchell, the company’s financial minister, a dapper urban man fully clad in designer brands, a typical black elite, tall and well-built.

Ben Douglas, the doctor of the team, a handsome white man.

Ker Berris, a technician, a short black guy with a hip-hop vibe, constantly complaining.

Captain Bill Johnson, a tall white male with excellent reflexes, a military veteran.

First Mate Ah-Quan, an Asian with ample experience, a local.

A total of eight people, and at least four survived–hip-hop guy, both beauties, and the captain.

Oh, right, there was also a monkey named Gang Zi.

Bi Fang glanced at Gang Zi, who was lurking in a corner, sneakily watching him.

A typical White-throated Capuchin, whose good looks and intelligence made it a star among monkeys, was of the same breed as Captain Barbossa’s monkey in the Pirates of the Caribbean.

Seeing Gang Zi fixated on him, Bi Fang tossed a peach in his direction, hoping to draw him closer, but with a whoosh, the monkey jumped out of the opposite window and vanished.

Bi Fang scratched his eyebrow, puzzled why Gang Zi was reluctant to get close, but he didn’t mind and turned to go out after seeing everyone else had boarded.

Four people and one monkey surviving was somewhat unusual in horror movies.

But movies are just movies, and Bi Fang didn’t know what changes would occur with his joining, but certainly, the original ending wasn’t set in stone; it could only be taken as a reference.

“My God, on such a broken-down boat there are actually two crew members, and one is supposed to clean and empty the toilets?”

“The bathroom is on the right, the third room down. Practically all the toilets on board have direct access to the river, so the local fauna and flora can decompose the waste. Unless your shit is thicker than that of a Borneo pygmy elephant and ends up clogging the toilet, I don’t think there’s any need for a special cleanup.”

Bi Fang came down the stairs, glanced at hip-hop youngster Boris, and casually explained.

Boris choked on his words, and when Jack saw Bi Fang approach, he extended his hand, “Hello, I’m Jack, Jack Byron, and who might you be?”

“Bi Fang, you can call me Fang.”

Bi Fang brushed past Boris to shake hands with Jack.

Given the pronunciation and habit issues of foreigners, Bi Fang always let people call him “Fang” instead of “Bi.”

“Alright, Fang.” Jack nodded, then assumed a reflective pose, “I think I’ve seen you at the tavern; you were surrounded by a lot of people.”

Bi Fang laughed, “Yes, they enjoy listening to my stories.”

Although Jack’s actions in the latter part of the movie were nearly villainous, Bi Fang wasn’t about to start off by putting on a sour face; that would be both absurd and immature.

“It looks like our journey won’t be boring.”

“I guarantee this expedition won’t be dull.”

“Alright, gentlemen, let’s cut the small talk. If we still want to pick the Blood Orchids, I suggest we set off now.”

Mixed-beauty Ge’er promptly interrupted everyone’s conversation.

Everyone paused for a moment, exchanged smiles, and then got busy with their own tasks.

The flower-hunting group didn’t find the arrival of the new crew member strange, and Bi Fang smoothly became a part of the small team.

After everyone had packed their belongings and returned to the deck, surrounding the wooden table, Dr. Jack pulled out a rolled-up map from his clothes and spread it out on the table.

It was a simple map of the rainforest, showing the main river courses, with several red circles on it.

Dr. Jack pointed at one of the red circles, looking at Captain Johnson, “The expedition team found the Blood Orchids here, in Satan Basin; it took them three days.”

The implication was for Captain Johnson to reach the destination within the same time frame.

Johnson was noncommittal: “Yeah, that was before the rainy season. Now some of the waterways might be dangerous.”

“You said you’d get us there safely, didn’t you?” blonde beauty Sam interjected, clearly also concerned about the dangers of the rainforest.

“Indeed, but safe doesn’t mean fast; we’ll take our time along the river…”

Bi Fang stood in the corner, arms folded, watching everyone discuss matters that were almost identical to his memory, with no significant changes.

Next was the hip-hop kid, oh no, now the tech kid, who used Space Agency and Asian satellites to deduce the optimal route under the best conditions and, for good measure, added a comparison of past weather patterns.

Ultimately, everyone successfully chose a “best route,” and Captain Johnson readily accepted the time-sensitive task.

Bi Fang did not utter a word throughout the process.

Tech kid Boris’s calculations were actually quite accurate, practically the limit of what technology could achieve, and superficially, there seemed to be no issues.

If it had been Bi Fang who did not know the storyline, he might have chosen such a route as well. Hence, he didn’t have any grounds for objection.

Even if he did, this group of people would never believe him.

Mentioning pythons in the rainforest?

Please, Borneo is full of all sorts of monster legends. Without direct evidence, everyone would just think he was scared before the fight.

In his original world, Bi Fang’s great fame afforded him incredible authority, and his words could be regarded as an authoritative opinion. But here, he was merely a slightly well-known explorer.